Truth

Christopher's POV 

"I told you to have this fixed before today, Bertha," I groaned, leafing through the file and grimacing at its discrepancies.

"I'm sorry, sir. Last week was packed, and I was shorthanded—"

"Shorthanded?" I echoed, glaring at her. "How many?"

She looked at me, puzzled. "Sir?"

"How many of them left their posts? Again."

She lowered her gaze, a faint blush staining her cheeks. "A few."

I tapped my pen against the desk. Waiting.

"Five, sir."

"Names."

She cleared her throat. "Miss Crowler, Miss Steve, Mr Banker, Mr Jude, and Mrs Wade."

"Good. Tell them they're fired and have Marcus bring in replacements."

"Sir," she said, taking a step closer.

"I will not repeat myself, Bertha. As endearing as your loyalty is towards your coworkers, it is also the only reason I'm not firing you too. Now, leave, and bring the architectural plans for Eli Star's corporation."

She stared at me for a couple of moments. "Yes, sir." She then walked away, closing the door behind her.

I glared at the documents in front of me. For some reason, all I could see was Amelia's hurt expression. I'd stayed up through the night wondering where I went wrong, yet I still couldn't pinpoint what I'd done to upset her. To make matters worse, I felt like shit.

I picked up the telephone on my desk and pressed the extension for reception. "Good day, Mr Ksterven—"

"Where's Bertha?" I cut in sharply.

The door opened, and Marcus walked in. "Why's this place so gloomy?" 

He pressed a switch, and the roller shutters covering the glass walls of my office began to rise, revealing the city skyline behind them.

I dropped the receiver, ending the call. "Where's Bertha?"

He closed the distance between us before handing me a file. "She asked me to bring this to you."

I snatched it from him and spread it out on my desk, studying it. I noticed Marcus eyeing me from the corner of my the office. I ignored him.

"You're in a sour mood, I see," Marcus said.

I said nothing.

"Bertha said you attempted to fire—"

"Attempted?" I repeated. "You mean I fired them."

"Mrs Wade's son's christening was last week Friday. She mentioned that she sent you an invitation."

I closed my eyes with a tired sigh. "Fuck. I totally forgot about that."

"I can see that."

"Tell Bertha I'm reversing their dismissal."

"She didn't tell them anything in the first place. She came to me as soon as she noticed you were in a mood."

"I see..."

I returned to the task at hand as silence fell between us.

"How was dinner with Miss Marlowe?" Marcus asked.

"Fine."

He hummed and went back to sorting through folders, a job that had absolutely nothing to do with him.

"We had a few issues," I muttered finally, after realising he wasn't going to give up until I gave him something substantial. "Give me folder C-36 from the architecture archives."

"Did you now?" he mused, fishing through the cabinet before handing me the file.

I tossed the file onto the desk with a low huff. "I just don't understand what the problem is."

"Seems like you both had something more than issues," Marcus muttered, still surfing through the cabinet.

"It seemed like we were getting along, you know. Simple conversations, and then all of a sudden, she became upset. When I tried to get her to tell me what was wrong, she just..." I trailed off with a heavy exhale.

"Tell me I'm detail what these... conversations were all about," Marcus said, taking the seat opposite me.

I told him everything. Before I finished, I already had a sinking feeling that I'd been in the wrong, judging by the way Marcus's expression shifted from discomfort to unease, and finally disappointment.

"With all due respect, boss, you're an asshole, and I would have done more than just walk away."

I crossed my arms over my chest with a scowl. "Spare me the lecture, Marcus, and tell me what I did wrong so I can fix it quickly."

"You literally compared her to Vivian, knowing full well about her condition."

"I did not. I was merely telling her how I was able to get her measurements right—"

"By making her feel self-conscious and undesirable."

"I would never make anybody feel that way, and you know it. Miss Marlowe asked a question, and I answered. It's not my fault she couldn't handle the truth. Viv appreciates it when I speak to her without restraint. She appreciates the truth."

He gave me an exhausted look. "You'll find not all women are like Mrs Kstervenchi, sir. Of course, you'd know that if you'd actually dated more women before settling down with her."

You mean if I spent my prime being a flirt like you," I said, a brow raised.

He pursed his lips with a shrug. "That's one way to put it, I guess. The point is, no one's arguing that it wasn't the truth. What we're arguing over is your lack of consideration and insensitivity. For fuck's sake, sir. You're trying to get this woman to fuck you."

I cringed at the crass word. "Not fuck, Marcus."

"Make love, then?"

I frowned. "Not that, either, Marcus. To make love would mean I love her, and I don't."

"Okay... so you're trying to fuck her."

I gave him a blank look. "Whatever."

"Anyway, what you did was totally uncalled for—"

"You still haven't let me know what I did wrong."

"Oh, I will. Better yet, let me show you. Let's use Mrs Kstervenchi as an example."

I shifted in my seat, already knowing I wouldn't like Marcus's example.

"I'm a woman, and you're Mrs Ksterven—" He shook his head. "Scratch that. I'm a woman with a womb that can bear—"

"Enough," I deadpanned, my gaze hardening.

He leaned back in his seat. "That hurt, huh? Tell me, how do you feel hearing me compare Mrs Kstervenchi's womb to that of another fertile woman, knowing full well that her condition arose from certain complications in her life?"

I tore my gaze away, gritting my teeth.

"You can't really fault me cause I'm telling the truth. It's a you problem if you can't handle—"

"I get it, Marcus. Drop it."

He cleared his throat, then stood up. "Well, I'll leave you to it, sir." 

He made his way across my office, his footsteps aggravating to my ears. Then he opened the door, walked out, and closed it behind him.

I banged my head against the desk, then let out a groan. "Stupid, Chris."

Each day mattered as I worked toward wooing Miss Marlowe and bearing an heir, yet I'd just spent the last two days not only failing to make progress but actually doing the opposite.

I had twenty-eight days left to convince Miss Marlowe to agree to have sex with me, and less than two years to produce an heir. I had to make sure every day counted towards my progress, and I had to start by making things right.

I stood up and slipped my phone out of my pocket as I headed for the door. I tapped the call log, then Marcus's name. 

"Hi—"

"Have Elizabeth reserve a table for two at Brooke's & Manor's restaurant. Two o'clock."

I ended the call and made another one as soon as I opened the door. My bodyguard trailed quietly behind me.

"Da, shef," Stephen answered. [Yes, boss.]

"Skazhite Miss Marlowe, pust' sobirayetsya. YA khotel by priglasit' yeyo na svidaniye." [Tell Miss Marlowe to get ready. I'd like to take her out on a date.]

I ended the call and stepped out of the building. A black car was already waiting, and someone held open the door open for me. I got in, making a mental note to visit Mrs Wade and congratulate. For now, though, I had more important things to do.

Now that I knew where I'd gone wrong, I felt much lighter, eager to make things right. Besides, I already knew what Miss Marlowe's response would be.